All My Team Members
by Nermits
Summary: Archer Apollo, the man who held up Team Rocket in the absence of Giovanni Sakaki. Some call him ambitious, some call him cold. Mostly, his coworkers call him a huge jerk. A series of short stories staring Archer as he deals with day-to-day life in Team Rocket, from failed bake sales, annoying roommates, and unwelcome dates. Rated T for language and some sexual themes.


**_Author's Note:_****_ So this is just going to be a brief series of short stories staring everyone's favorite Team Rocket Executive, Archer. Nothing fancy, nothing too crazy. This is mainly just something I'm writing for fun, and it's likely I'll be inconsistent with updates. That said, if you enjoy it, feel free to stick around, there will be more coming. If you don't like it, door's over there. Nobody's making you stay. I mean it. You can go. YOU CAN GO. Jeez. Anyway, hope you enjoy. _**

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**_All My Team Members_**

**_File 1: Petrel_**

_Primary Log: Administration 004, Archer ApolloSecond Quarter, Third Month_

_It is with a mixture of irritation and sadness that I must terminate our primary source of income. For the past six months, Executive Proton, Agent 2574, had been harvesting the tails of Slowpoke near Site 302, Azalea Town. Due to the regenerative nature of the appendages, farming the creatures for their tails proved efficient and, if sold on the proper market, yielded highly profitable results. Most unfortunately, however, this was cut short last week when a juvenile trainer ousted Executive Proton from his position, subduing his Pokémon and forcing him to retreat, despite being under orders to retaliate physically or with weaponry should the need arise. Although he is being suitably punished with a severe dock in pay and reduced rations for the new Quarter, the blow to our available resources is noticeable, and without a steady supply of additional tails, I see our Quarterly income dropping 60% within the next month. Further research will need to be undertaken in order to either find a new spawning ground for Slowpoke, or pinpoint a secondary source of income to alleviate our loss._

Archer paused briefly in his typing, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. As current the stand-in leader for Team Rocket, Archer had no need to write any reports. No one outranked him, nor was he required to share any information with the grunts or his fellow executives. Writing reports was what he had always done, since he had initially joined Team Rocket under Giovanni Sakaki's banner. It gave him a sense of control over even the worst of situations, being able to record his thoughts and analyze the situation.

That being said, Proton's failure _had _been a blow. They'd spent the past three years stockpiling as many resources as possible, but covert operation limited their collecting abilities somewhat. It had been the youngest Executive who had suggested the business venture, and Archer had gladly allowed Proton to go through with the operation. His initial shock at the success of the plan was quickly quelled by the influx of money that began to come in, allowing Archer to invest in further upgrades to their various bases of operation. In fact, before news of the end of the Slowpoke Operation reached him, he had been intending to establish bases with Hoenn and Kalos, the latter of which had only recently begun to be settled and would have been a prime location to establish a foothold in. Unfortunately, without the reliable income from Slowpoke Well to count on, these plans would have to be put on hold.

Archer sighed, massaging his temples, before continuing.

_I wonder, sometimes, if our leader would find a better manner in which to handle these situations. Without proper financial backing, I am tentative at best to continue maintaining such a large staff. Occasional losses have been marked, due to accidents on the field or police capture, but these have been negligible at best, and have never been a good indicator for the resources that are consumed by the majority of our personnel. The dilemma continues in that we cannot simply "fire" our grunts, as the hold onto sensitive information, and at our current planning stage, it would be catastrophic for any information pertaining to our Radio Tower endeavor to fall into the hands of the authorities, especially those damnable International Police._

The sound of a door opening. Archer looked up sharply, but saw no signs of an intruder into the room. Frowning, he turned back to his report.

_This is compounded by our lack of resources, as keeping all of the grunts efficiently fed and watered has always been expensive, but manageable. Managing to pay for travel, as well as the costs of silencing those transporting our personnel, will be dicey now that we are nearing the stage to bring our abroad agents to Johto. Most will be forced to remain at their current posts, such as our agent in Cerulean City. I only pray none of them due anything foolish in the absence of additional order._

A flash of movement. Archer furrowed his brow as he glanced to his left, but saw nothing. There was no time for this foolishness. Finishing this report came first, and he needed to collect his thoughts before proceeding with their plans.

_There is positive news to report, despite this. Our endeavors to force evolution in wild Pokémon has finally borne fruit, as our experiments with Magikarp has finally caused a specimen to evolve. The specimen in question has obtained a red coloration to it's scales, although whether this is a side effect of the experiments or not remains to be see. Regardless, this success means we can begin experimenting on larger groups of Pokémon at a time, and we hopefully may soon be able to turn our attention to the Lake of Rage. If successful, we_

"Executive Petrel, I suggest you cease your foolish behavior at once, lest I punish you in a far worse way than I did Proton." What seemed like a cabinet located on the wall to Archer's right suddenly gave way as the fabric that made it revealed the older man. He chuckled, shaking his head while clearly ignoring the sheer amount of irritation and killing intent emanating from his superior.

"What gave it away?" He sat on the edge of Archer's desk, using one of the chairs set in front of it as a footrest. This habit of Petrel's infuriated Archer, as it was not the proper way to use either piece of furniture. Archer knew it, and Petrel clearly knew it as well. There were times when Archer wondered if the oldest Executive existed for the sole purpose of giving him an aneurism.

"You forget that, despite your actions to the contrary, this is _my_ office we are currently sitting in. I know the precise location of every object within this room, down to the very last centimeter of it's measurement, and I have no recollection of purchasing a mahogany cabinet within the past fire minutes."

Petrel rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Should've known."

Despite his aloof behavior, Archer had to remind himself that Petrel was an Executive for a reason. The man was incredibly skilled in espionage and stealth, able to imitate the appearance, voice, and mannerisms of anyone, male or female, after just a few minutes of observation. While his skills did have disturbing implications (such as his repeated forays into the women's bathing area, which had gone unnoticed for five years until one day he tripped on a pile of towels), the man's talent was not to be overlooked. And as long as it could be an asset to Team Rocket, Archer would have to tolerate Petrel.

"To what matter do I owe this pleasurable intrusion and violation of my personal space?" Archer stated snidely, glaring sharply at Petrel.

If Petrel was unnerved by his superior's actions, he didn't show it. "Oh, just worried for my friend."

Archer raised an eyebrow.

"No, I mean it, you've been shut up in your office ever since Proton bailed on Slowpoke Well - which, by the way, I think you were way too harsh on the kid for."

The eyebrow raised, if possible, even higher.

"Is it really that difficult to accept that your friends and colleagues, dare I say, _care _for and respect the man who has held us together in Giovanni's absence all these years? You've done an amazing job holding everything together and everyone really appreciates the hard work and investment you've put into everything."

Archer's hand reached for the Pokeball containing his Houndoom.

"Oh, all right, I had an idea to solve this cash issue."

Archer's hands slowly unclenched as he folded them on top of his desk, staring fixedly at Petrel. "And what, of all things, could this be?"

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"No."

"Just one little smile."

"No."

"You're scaring them all away!"

"This is a foolish endeavor, you are my elder by ten years, and you should be highly ashamed for even conceiving such a childish and idiotic concept."

"At least let me hug you so they can see you've not dangerous!"

"Houndoom. Flamethrower."

"Sheesh, love you too, Dad." Petrel pouted, an act that would have been much more ridiculous if the man weren't currently masquerading as a young girl. It was unnerving how realistic the man's disguises were, and many a passerby smiled at what they thought was a young girl of twelve. This was then followed by a hurried glance at who the believed to be her father, as they quickly picked up pace and hurried away.

Archer furrowed his brow as he stared at the sugary cookies that covered the stand before him. He hated sweets. Nothing but sugar and fat. Not healthy for a diet, nor nutritious enough to provide proper sustenance for a meal. How he had agreed to such a foolish endeavor had long since escaped him. Perhaps it was out of desperation to solve the immanent financial crisis. Perhaps he simply couldn't think of anything better for himself. Or perhaps, deep down, he trusted his fellow Executive and cared for him, and wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Archer glanced over as Petrel giggled at a blushing boy who was stammering over his words. No, no, he definitely did not trust or care for the man. He actually quite detested him.

Archer sighed, shifting his weight to his other leg. A family passed by, chatting happily with Petrel before leaving with a dozen of the baked goods. "How do you interact with them so effectively? They are pure strangers whom should realistically distrust and ignore you."

"It's not hard. Just... Smile, pretend to be interested in what they're saying, no matter how boring or tedious it might be. It works with you."

Archer shot the older man, whom was currently pretending to be a younger girl, a sharp look.

"You can't expect me to be _that_ interested in the value of the Unovan dollar or the politics of Sinnoh. Here, you take this next one." Petrel moved back, pulling Archer forward as a young girl around Petrel's assumed age approached. She glanced nervously at Archer.

"... Yes?" Archer stated, staring intently at the child. Her eyes began to sparkle with tears as she began to look fearfully at him.

"_Smile."_ Petrel hissed. Archer winced as a shoulder poked him sharply in the back.

Gathering himself, Archer willed the muscles of his mouth into what he assumed to be a smile. "How can I help you today, young child?"

The girl screamed in fear, running away. "Mommy! That man looks like a Gengar!"

The Team Rocket leader's eyebrow twitched involuntarily as he heard snickering behind him. He and Petrel would have much to discuss about his business tactics once they returned to base.

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_Primary Log: Administration 004, Archer Apollo_

_Second Quarter, Third Month_

_Today's foray into addressing our financial situation was disastrous at best. Despite lecturing Executive Petrel on proper protocol upon our return, he seemed to have little care or interest in what I had to say. As for the cost of our endeavor, we have lost more money than we invested into our ingredients, and the difference shall be docked from Petrel's pay to alleviate the cost. As for the remainder of the confections, they are, most unfortunately, being distributed among the staff to keep them from going to waste. Despite my misgiving on the nutritional value of cookies, it does not due to waste any resource, no matter it's value._

Pausing, Archer tentatively reached for the basket on the side of his desk. Delicately picking out a chocolate chip cookie, he rotated it in his hand slowly, inspecting it careful. His head leaning forward, he sniffed it once, untrustworthy, before slowly biting a small edge off the side. Chewing carefully, Archer frowned before turning back to his computer, quickly putting a close to his report.

_Despite my disapproval for the sugar and fat content of these, however, I find myself admitting that Petrel's baking abilities are well refined. If he could apply this diligence to his professional attitude, I would be amazed at the headway we could achieve._

_In closing,Hail GiovanniArcher Apollo_

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End file.
